


this love is glowing in the dark

by shafferthefirst



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: 3x17, Cuddling, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Light Smut, PWP, but...lightly, somewhere between mild and explicit sexual content, well i mean it's all smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-07-27 09:44:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7613233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shafferthefirst/pseuds/shafferthefirst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She toys with his fingers, beaming down at them when he chooses to interlace them with hers. “I don’t know why we haven’t been doing that for the past three months. Hell, even the past decade.”</p><p>“Well,” Fitz brings their joint hands to her chin to tilt it up to him, “I suppose that means we have a lot of time to make up for.”</p><p>She smirks. “In that case…” </p><p>—</p><p>An expansion of the 3x17 scene.</p>
            </blockquote>





	this love is glowing in the dark

**Author's Note:**

> title is from This Love by Taylor Swift.
> 
> inspired by Jemma’s “you mean once we have sex?” comment that could not have been prompted without some Serious making out the night before, which snowballed into this.
> 
> and I just wanna say, we didn’t see their pants during the mid-quake cuddling bit. Take that as you will.

“One of my prized possessions, that is. And I don’t know why it makes any significance to—”

 

“Oh, okay.”

 

“Mm-hmm.”

 

It has taken her nearly twelve years to find the most effective method of shutting Fitz up, but Jemma is better late than never as she grins against his still-speaking lips, fingers playing with the edge of his shirt collar. 

 

It’s very effective, and it works in her favor as well, because it’s also taken her the same amount of time to realize exactly how  _ good _ of a kisser her best friend is. 

 

He’s gentle, she notes appreciatively, tender. She’d acknowledged the very same thing in the lab months ago, that even though his hold around her waist was almost bruising—as if trying to fuse them together for just that moment before letting her go for good—his mouth was nothing but soft against hers. 

 

Her train of thought comes to a screeching halt as he pulls her closer. Jemma loses her balance raised on her knees and tumbles atop his lap with a squeak. The kiss breaks at the angle change; they stare at one another for a moment, all red-lipped and moony-eyed, until laughter rumbles through both of their chests at the same time. 

 

“Jem,” Fitz chuckles, shaking his head, “what is this?”

 

She kisses his cheekbone. “What’s what?” 

 

“You know,” he gestures vaguely in the small space between them with the hand that isn’t supporting her lower back. “This.”

 

“Hmm, I’m not sure,” she says softly, and brushes a gentle kiss to his mouth. “Something good, though.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

The way he looks at her after, smile twitching into his cheek, makes her insides feel fuzzy. “Yeah,” Jemma echoes.  _ “Very _ good.” She toys with his fingers, beaming down at them when he chooses to interlace them with hers. “I don’t know why we haven’t been doing that for the past three months. Hell, even the past  _ decade.” _

 

“Well,” Fitz brings their joint hands to her chin to tilt it up to him, “I suppose that means we have a lot of time to make up for.”

 

She smirks. “In that case…” her voice trails off as her sightline falls back to his lips; she scoots in close and finds them with hers once again. They’re drawn to each other like magnets, and she has to admit: the slight leverage her height still sitting on his lap has over his gives her easier, and very satisfying, access to his upper lip. 

 

He releases her fingers in favor of snaking both of his arms all the way around her waist, thumbing at her sides as he tugs her all the way against him. Jemma responds in kind, locking her own behind his neck. She cards her nails lightly through his hair and he lets out a soft sound of pleasure, one that sends a small vibration from the back of his throat to her mouth and, wow, she forms a newfound determination to cause that sensation as many times as possible. She tilts her head and parts his lips with her tongue and he makes the sound again.

 

Apparently two can play at that game. Fitz glides his palms lower until they reach the hem of her sweater, which he rucks up just a touch to seek out the skin of her lower back. She shivers then and gasps, stopping the kiss to pant against him. 

 

“Like that?” he teases. Jemma scoffs.

 

“Evidently,” she says pointedly, drawing him back to her. She sweeps her tongue across his, strokes the spots beneath his ears before moving her hands down his chest. He traces patterns beneath her camisole with the pads of his fingers; she responds in kind, flicking open the top two buttons of his shirt, releasing his mouth to press warm, lingering kisses along his jaw and neck to explore him further.

 

She’s tugging his earlobe gently with her teeth when Fitz pushes her back.

 

“Jemma,” he pants, pupils blown wide. “J-Jem— _ wait.” _

 

Concerned with potentially hurting him, she jerks away so abruptly she might have landed on the floor if he wasn’t still holding her. “What is it?”

 

“I, um, well, I’m—” he stutters, blushing, not meeting her eyes.

 

She’s puzzled until it hits her. 

 

Or, well, she hits  _ it. _

 

“Oh! You have an erection,” Jemma concludes. Fitz makes a strangled sound and grows white as a sheet. “Oh,  _ relax, _ Fitz! It’s basic male anatomy that when moderately to intensely stimulated, depending on the person—”

 

“This isn’t, um. Helping.”

 

“—and there’s definitely been a fair amount stimulation occurring, presently—”

 

“Could you— _ Jesus,  _ Jemma.” He finally stops her with a firm kiss that she feels all the way to her toes. 

 

Apparently the action works both ways, as she’s silent when he breaks it. 

 

“All I’m saying is, maybe… we should slow down, just a little. We could. If you want.”

 

Her heart swells. Goodness, he’s a prince. She pecks the bridge of his nose. “Is that what  _ you  _ want?”

 

“I… well.” Hey, now. 

 

“Because that’s absolutely _ fine _ if you do. But,” Jemma winds her arms around his shoulders, “I meant what I said about not wanting to waste anymore time. And it’d be such a shame to go back to running tests while you’re… stimulated, shall we say.” She nearly purrs in his ear, “Or both of us, for that matter.”

 

And, that does it. Fitz kisses her again, determined, and damn near knocks the breath out of her. She responds happily, turning and swinging a leg over to where she’s fully straddling him. She lets him adjust for just a moment before rolling her hips to his experimentally. He groans—he actually  _ groans— _ and she smiles triumphantly, skimming his bottom lip with her teeth and caressing the top.

 

It’s exhilarating, discovering the tiny little things that seem to make the biggest impressions as they learn their way around each other, almost like a competition. Jemma unfastens more of his shirt, set on finding more skin to expose, but Fitz beats her to it, shrugging the soft material off one of her shoulders to trail his lips and tongue along her neck and collarbone. Her head lolls back, allowing him more access, and her hands venture elsewhere. By the time he’s kissed his way to her chest, she’s removed his belt completely, tossing it aside and pushing the shirt off his shoulders. 

 

Frowning at his earlier decision to wear an undershirt that morning, she leans back far enough to detach Fitz from her skin and shrugs her sweater completely off. He stills, brain short-circuiting at the improved view of her flushing chest, (from  _ his _ actions, of all things!). Jemma cannot help but snicker to herself as she kisses him again, even more so at his grunt of confusion. But then she scratches down his cotton-clad abdomen and he suddenly loses any and all questions he might have. She undoes his fly and he whimpers against her mouth.

 

“I don’t.  _ Hngh.  _ I don’t have—” he gasps.

 

Jemma smirks, pulling back to shuck off her jeans altogether, along with his as far as she can manage.

 

“Like this, then,” she murmurs, settling back over his lap, aligning them as best as she can, “because it isn’t going to take long.” Jemma shivers at the contact between their increasingly dampening underthings. He finally ruts up against her and they both inhale sharply at the feeling.

 

_ “Fitz!” _ she pants, and he does it again. She grinds down hard against him in kind, and a part of her wants to move this to his empty bed rather than the floor where they are, but then his hand sneaks up beneath her camisole to thumb at a nipple through her bra, his lips following suit, and she temporarily forgets her own name let alone a list of potentially more comfortable places to go through with this.

 

She tugs at his hair and arches her back to eliminate the last sliver of space available. Getting the message, Fitz tugs her flush against him, kissing his way back to her mouth and sucking on her lower lip. The kiss is hardly reciprocated, Jemma being far too close to falling over the edge to do so.

 

“Fitz,” her voice trembles in tandem with her body as she struggles to match his thrusts, “Yes, Fi- _ Fitz.  _ I’m, I, I’m so,  _ God—”  _ She rambles as her heart rate quickens. Somewhere deep in his near-climax haze, he understands. Fitz worms his hand between them to rub at her center and murmurs praises against her ear. She cries out almost instantly, throwing her head back and collapsing against him as her release of a decade in the making washes over her. It’s as if she’s finally reached the surface after screaming beneath the water for longer than she can pin a time to. As if she’s completely weightless, figuratively and literally.

 

Her eyes flutter open just in time to witness the weight roll off his shoulders too, suspending him high in the air before he leaps from the edge, buries his face in her neck.

 

Still seeing white, Jemma presses sluggish kisses to his hair and arches her hips into his to intensify the sensation for him. He rocks against her until he no longer can, panting into her collarbone, and she finally feels him grin against it. 

 

“Jemma,” he whispers upon pulling back. They study one another for just a moment, until they promptly burst into laughter again without a clue as to why that keeps happening. 

 

Could it be the bubbling nerves they once held inside? Maybe. Or the exhaustion from the day finally setting in, giving them a case of delirious giggles? Possibly. Or the dual realization of how  _ vastly _ less complicated their lives could have been had they done this from the beginning? _Probably._

 

Even if that’s the case, it doesn’t matter. They curl up together at the foot of the bed anyway, exchanging little kisses and more laughter than perhaps necessary. It’s them, as it should be, and it just works.

**Author's Note:**

> aaaaaand there it is: my first attempt at smut, which ended up more fluff and giggling (and blushing from my end) than anything, but smut nonetheless. sorta kinda.
> 
> special thank yous to laura for reading over this first, the sandpenis chat for a conversation a little ways back that inspired some of this too, and also lauren lefranc for blessing us with that Golden line and also the sex. 
> 
> thank you for reading! Feel free to comment/share your thoughts/throw tomatoes at me here or on tumblr @ jemmaswan! <3


End file.
